When was the last time you were afraid--really afraid and you were forced to deal with a desperate situation? I'm talking about something that is life-threatening, to either you or a loved one? How would you react?
Most of us haven't really been tested all that much (and I'm speaking of us regular folks, not our military, law enforcement, or fire personnel who face life and death situations as part of their jobs). Well, this thought occurred to me when I took Beauty out for a morning drive this past week.
Working with horses can be dangerous. All of us who work around horses have, at some point in time, come to terms with the fact that we could be injured--seriously injured--or even die because of our love for these beautiful but sometimes unpredictable beasts. The average riding horse weighs between 900 and 1200 pounds, give or take a few. As prey animals, they have inherited the ancient instincts of survival--one being to run when they are being hunted by predators (man included). This means they run when they fear something they don't understand. Just imagine being in their way when they are trying to flee from something. I have and I have felt their power after being thrown into the broad side of a barn when six-month-old Beauty was trying to get out of the boss mare's way!
I took Beauty for a drive this past Wednesday morning. It was a beautiful summer's day. She seemed fine to me, although Brenda mentioned that Beauty was a little 'pissy.' I didn't notice anything more than Beauty's ardent and animated interest in whether or not I had a treat for her hidden somewhere in my shirt (I didn't).
Oh well. I harnessed her up (it took a while since it had been a month since our last outing). I'm still a bit new at this, so I took my time. Beauty fidgeted. She loves pulling the cart and gets anxious when she knows we're going out for a drive. Finally, after I put my helmet on and got everything buckled, wrapped, strapped, and adjusted, we started off. We were moving along just fine, only she wanted to go a little faster than I wanted to let her. I mean she really wanted to move out, but the ruts and holes along Kozy Lane are a bit too bumpy. I reined her in.
I'm not sure if she just got 'pissy' and decided to revolt or if she became legitimately scared of something (there was nothing unusual going on), but she bolted and started to take off down the lane toward Clark Road (our usual route). I reined her in tightly and she stopped, sort of, only to start backing up madly in the opposite direction. Pretty soon we were rolling backward to the right and off to the side, then off the road and into the open ditch. Thank goodness it wasn't full of water. She kept backing up until the cart was perpendicular to the pasture fence on the other side of the ditch. We could go no further as the wheels were jammed against it.
Not knowing what would happen next, I tried frantically to gather my thoughts. I was frightened to say the least. And I was on the road alone and too far from the ranch for anyone to hear my cries for help. Beauty was fidgeting and clearly uncomfortable with the situation. She was fighting the harness and the cart. I know she felt trapped, as did I.
"It's okay, Beauty. You're okay," I kept saying to her, hoping she would stop prancing nervously in place. She acted like she didn't know what to do and the thought occurred to me that maybe she was working herself up into a full-blown panic (not good!). She pulled me forward a little and then backed me back into the ditch. We rolled back and forth. We were stuck--and she was afraid, but her ears flicked back and forth at the sound of my voice. At least she was listening to me.
"Easy, girl" I said over and over, for both her and me.
She was trying to go forward but we were stuck, wedged against a long wood plank that traversed the ditch.
I thought about getting out of the cart but immediately heard Roger Cleverly's voice saying "Don't get out of the cart if you want to maintain control."
So I stayed in the cart. I held the reins as I dipped my left foot over the side, pushing at the plank. It was hard to move because Beauty had stepped on the end nearest the road, splitting it and wedging it into the still damp bank.
Panic began to well up inside. I didn't know what to do. I called for help but I knew no one could hear me. I feared that something bad would happen. What if Beauty succumbed to panic and hurt herself? I wasn't so worried about me as I could jump clear if I had to, but the harness and cart were strapped to her--a surefire means of injury if she panicked and took off. Some of the worst accidents are cart accidents.
'Stay in the cart. Trust your horse. She's smart, she can figure it out. Trust the horse ... trust Beauty ...'
These words kept playing in my head and I calmed down. I centered myself. I kept talking to Beauty, but I knew it was up to me to take control of the situation. I hoped Beauty would comply.
I kept toeing at the plank until I managed to move it over enough for the wheel to clear.
Beauty calmed a little--not completely, but her ears twitched at the sound of my voice. I tried to soothe her, making sure my voice stayed calm and even. I called to her again and patted her gently on the rump.
"C'mon, Butt," I called to her. ('Butt' is her pet name, as in Beauty-Butt; she answers to it, usually with a nicker.)
She responded almost immediately. She stopped moving and held her head in a way reminiscent of someone who is in the process of thinking about something. Okay. I was beginning to feel a bit better.
I moved her over to the right and slapped the reins on her back.
"Okay, Butt, let's get out of here!"
With one big forward motion, Beauty pulled me and the cart up out of the ditch and back onto the road. She walked a ways and then I urged her into a slow trot down the lane. We had gotten 'stuck' about a third of the way down the lane toward Clark Road.
What else could I do except make her finish her journey? If not for her, then for me? It would have been wrong to turn her around and go home.
I was okay and Beauty was fine. So why were my hands shaking?
Beauty settled down into a nice easy trot. We went the rest of the way to Clark Road where we could turn around. Then we headed back to Little Wing and then followed the curve around to the right (also Kozy Lane) along the row of houses, turned around, and came back. All with no incident. I drove her around the ranch for at least another 20 minutes or so before we finally called it quits.
I learned a lot of things last Wednesday. First, always take my cell phone with me for emergencies (I had left it in the car). Second, always drive Beauty in the arena before hitting the road. Third, mares do indeed have their 'off' days--even the usually level-headed Beauty. And fourth, when Brenda says that Beauty is 'pissy,' take note! (We later determined that Beauty might have been in season--she has what is called a 'silent estrus.' You can't really tell with her.)
I felt good afterwards. We had experienced a bad situation and lived through it--together.
I don't know if she had been suddenly frightened by something or if she indeed was a little 'pissy'--wanting to go faster than I would let her. It's not that important. What is important is that she came through in a tight spot. She is intelligent, level-headed, and has a good heart, albeit she does get a little bit 'pissy' at times. Thank goodness those times are few and far between!
Most importantly, we both learned a lot about each other. I learned to trust her, and she learned to trust me. Who could ask for more?
Most of us haven't really been tested all that much (and I'm speaking of us regular folks, not our military, law enforcement, or fire personnel who face life and death situations as part of their jobs). Well, this thought occurred to me when I took Beauty out for a morning drive this past week.
Working with horses can be dangerous. All of us who work around horses have, at some point in time, come to terms with the fact that we could be injured--seriously injured--or even die because of our love for these beautiful but sometimes unpredictable beasts. The average riding horse weighs between 900 and 1200 pounds, give or take a few. As prey animals, they have inherited the ancient instincts of survival--one being to run when they are being hunted by predators (man included). This means they run when they fear something they don't understand. Just imagine being in their way when they are trying to flee from something. I have and I have felt their power after being thrown into the broad side of a barn when six-month-old Beauty was trying to get out of the boss mare's way!
I took Beauty for a drive this past Wednesday morning. It was a beautiful summer's day. She seemed fine to me, although Brenda mentioned that Beauty was a little 'pissy.' I didn't notice anything more than Beauty's ardent and animated interest in whether or not I had a treat for her hidden somewhere in my shirt (I didn't).
Oh well. I harnessed her up (it took a while since it had been a month since our last outing). I'm still a bit new at this, so I took my time. Beauty fidgeted. She loves pulling the cart and gets anxious when she knows we're going out for a drive. Finally, after I put my helmet on and got everything buckled, wrapped, strapped, and adjusted, we started off. We were moving along just fine, only she wanted to go a little faster than I wanted to let her. I mean she really wanted to move out, but the ruts and holes along Kozy Lane are a bit too bumpy. I reined her in.
I'm not sure if she just got 'pissy' and decided to revolt or if she became legitimately scared of something (there was nothing unusual going on), but she bolted and started to take off down the lane toward Clark Road (our usual route). I reined her in tightly and she stopped, sort of, only to start backing up madly in the opposite direction. Pretty soon we were rolling backward to the right and off to the side, then off the road and into the open ditch. Thank goodness it wasn't full of water. She kept backing up until the cart was perpendicular to the pasture fence on the other side of the ditch. We could go no further as the wheels were jammed against it.
Not knowing what would happen next, I tried frantically to gather my thoughts. I was frightened to say the least. And I was on the road alone and too far from the ranch for anyone to hear my cries for help. Beauty was fidgeting and clearly uncomfortable with the situation. She was fighting the harness and the cart. I know she felt trapped, as did I.
"It's okay, Beauty. You're okay," I kept saying to her, hoping she would stop prancing nervously in place. She acted like she didn't know what to do and the thought occurred to me that maybe she was working herself up into a full-blown panic (not good!). She pulled me forward a little and then backed me back into the ditch. We rolled back and forth. We were stuck--and she was afraid, but her ears flicked back and forth at the sound of my voice. At least she was listening to me.
"Easy, girl" I said over and over, for both her and me.
She was trying to go forward but we were stuck, wedged against a long wood plank that traversed the ditch.
I thought about getting out of the cart but immediately heard Roger Cleverly's voice saying "Don't get out of the cart if you want to maintain control."
So I stayed in the cart. I held the reins as I dipped my left foot over the side, pushing at the plank. It was hard to move because Beauty had stepped on the end nearest the road, splitting it and wedging it into the still damp bank.
Panic began to well up inside. I didn't know what to do. I called for help but I knew no one could hear me. I feared that something bad would happen. What if Beauty succumbed to panic and hurt herself? I wasn't so worried about me as I could jump clear if I had to, but the harness and cart were strapped to her--a surefire means of injury if she panicked and took off. Some of the worst accidents are cart accidents.
'Stay in the cart. Trust your horse. She's smart, she can figure it out. Trust the horse ... trust Beauty ...'
These words kept playing in my head and I calmed down. I centered myself. I kept talking to Beauty, but I knew it was up to me to take control of the situation. I hoped Beauty would comply.
I kept toeing at the plank until I managed to move it over enough for the wheel to clear.
Beauty calmed a little--not completely, but her ears twitched at the sound of my voice. I tried to soothe her, making sure my voice stayed calm and even. I called to her again and patted her gently on the rump.
"C'mon, Butt," I called to her. ('Butt' is her pet name, as in Beauty-Butt; she answers to it, usually with a nicker.)
She responded almost immediately. She stopped moving and held her head in a way reminiscent of someone who is in the process of thinking about something. Okay. I was beginning to feel a bit better.
I moved her over to the right and slapped the reins on her back.
"Okay, Butt, let's get out of here!"
With one big forward motion, Beauty pulled me and the cart up out of the ditch and back onto the road. She walked a ways and then I urged her into a slow trot down the lane. We had gotten 'stuck' about a third of the way down the lane toward Clark Road.
What else could I do except make her finish her journey? If not for her, then for me? It would have been wrong to turn her around and go home.
I was okay and Beauty was fine. So why were my hands shaking?
Beauty settled down into a nice easy trot. We went the rest of the way to Clark Road where we could turn around. Then we headed back to Little Wing and then followed the curve around to the right (also Kozy Lane) along the row of houses, turned around, and came back. All with no incident. I drove her around the ranch for at least another 20 minutes or so before we finally called it quits.
I learned a lot of things last Wednesday. First, always take my cell phone with me for emergencies (I had left it in the car). Second, always drive Beauty in the arena before hitting the road. Third, mares do indeed have their 'off' days--even the usually level-headed Beauty. And fourth, when Brenda says that Beauty is 'pissy,' take note! (We later determined that Beauty might have been in season--she has what is called a 'silent estrus.' You can't really tell with her.)
I felt good afterwards. We had experienced a bad situation and lived through it--together.
I don't know if she had been suddenly frightened by something or if she indeed was a little 'pissy'--wanting to go faster than I would let her. It's not that important. What is important is that she came through in a tight spot. She is intelligent, level-headed, and has a good heart, albeit she does get a little bit 'pissy' at times. Thank goodness those times are few and far between!
Most importantly, we both learned a lot about each other. I learned to trust her, and she learned to trust me. Who could ask for more?
No comments:
Post a Comment